


Moon Phases, Tidal Waves

by amelioratedays



Category: Super Junior, Super Junior D&E
Genre: HaeEun - Freeform, Highkey be one of those read while playing Still U and Gloomy fics, M/M, Slowburn (But not really), haehyuk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelioratedays/pseuds/amelioratedays
Summary: Donghae feels as if he and Hyukjae are forever in pendulum, waltzing one step closer--one step farther. non-chronological, non beta-ed, rps, semi-character study.
Relationships: Lee Donghae/Lee Hyukjae | Eunhyuk
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. wax and wane

Donghae always came on strong, holding on with too much force even after countless years spent on defining social boundaries. He’s well past the precarious ages of youth where adrenaline and hormones overtake logic, having experienced enough ups and downs in life to know when to hold himself back. Growing up is but a process of control and restraint upon his desires and emotions. However, there’s something in growing up with the same people who’ve surrounded him since his childhood days that seems timeless. Blurred dynamics that seemed to grow with time but also regress into days long ago. Where even after so many years, he can’t help but let the strings of his heart tug him around like a puppet. Donghae’s presence came crashing like ocean waves, burning with the fervor of the sun.

Hyukjae seemed to be the opposite, always retreating within himself as he marks invisible boundary lines. Donghae takes one step forwards, Hyukjae takes one step backwards. There’s always distance between them in the never-ending waltz of life. Donghae doesn’t quite understand how one moment he feels that they’re so intimate, hearts beating in sync to the world’s metronome, and the next moment, they’re still _(still) _ not close enough. Hyukjae’s hand lays lightly upon his own and as they slowly circle the wooden dance floor, Donghae has to remind himself not to tighten his grip. Too much, he thinks, and Hyukjae would let go.

It’s old tales, memories that occasionally flashed through his mind. Their first and only argument having earned him the lesson that Hyukjae treads within safe boundaries. And whether or not Donghae approaches him with his heart on his sleeve, the other keeps his encaged in a glass box. Donghae muses whimsically, whether such differences had been a result of their upbringing. Where he’s slowly finding bits and pieces of Heechul within his demeanor, bits and pieces of Jungsoo within Hyukjae.

He grows timid with age, taking small steps to test the equilibrium between them. Push and pull, he tugs upon the red string between them, wondering if it would suddenly fray and snap. Grazing his fingertips upon the silk string, he proceeds to wrap the other end around Hyukjae’s wrist. The crimson shade of the thread seems to be like that of blood—of love, of resent. He hates the unspoken words between them, hates the way that Hyukjae _ knows _—knows that he also knows—yet refuses to let such thoughts and emotions manifest into words. He hates the way that he doesn’t say it either, too scared of losing all that they’ve worked up to for so long. 

Donghae likes to think that there’s something fated between them, entertains himself with the abstract nuances that tie them together. Like how the moon had its way with the ocean tides. Hyukjae waxes and wanes, hiding behind the clouds. Donghae moves in accordance to the other’s pull. Like how he construes his name to contain the sun. He gazes at Hyukjae, the intensity of the sun morphing into the soft gentle glow of the moon. Their fate transcends through the ways of the world.

  
He writes their stories into songs, watches on as Hyukjae sings them with him as well. He pulls out his wounds on display for the world. Everyone knows the meaning behind the words, playing along with the veil of ambiguity shrouding the two of them. He seems to be writing the same motif over and over—you keep pushing me away, I keep staying. He wonders how Hyukjae feels while singing the very lines he penned during sleepless nights. Their photograph stays tucked between the copy of _ Romeo And Juliet _ he’s been reading for three years. All the world’s a stage, he writes out the stories of his dreams, Hyukjae plays the part. If only, Donghae thinks, if only the curtains never drew to a close.


	2. storm clouds

Hyukjae starts drinking when he turns twenty-seven, breaking age-old promises on a rowdy night, and albeit the others recalling the incident with amusement, Donghae can’t help but knit his brows in disagreement. Those days seem to be a warped reality, the older boy taking on a façade Donghae doesn’t quite recognize. It still seems foreign in his memory, a sudden lapse in time from the days before and after two tumultuous years in Jungsoo’s life. Sometimes Donghae forgets that such a persona existed at all with Hyukjae seemingly reverting to old characteristics once Jungsoo returned from the army. As if they were still whole and naïve—vowing to never succumb to such substances—but they weren’t. Donghae watches on as Hyukjae learns to enjoy the loss of autonomy. The inebriation makes him happy, Hyukjae said once, a suspended reality. It’s nothing like when he was sober, having too much control and restraint on his emotions yet too little control towards the ways of the world. Wounds heal and the scars remain, Donghae wonders if Hyukjae remembers the pain of it all.

Donghae plays the role of the listener while the other members indulge themselves, watching on as they make their rounds with various staff and investors while he inconspicuously sips at the same glass of soju a little bit at a time. He’s gotten used to it by now, no longer feeling the same surge of frustration he did during their first after party that year. It’s not like Donghae doesn’t know the ways of the industry, on the contrary, he knows all too well how much socialization and networking affects their standing and reputation. He’s simply been spared from doing things he wasn’t willing to do. He knew the older members doted on him, letting him get his way a bit too often.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting the same for Hyukjae, someone whose kindness was always being used against him. The other boy always seemed to be in a constant state of being forced to grow up, far too much, far too early. He’s Atlas holding up the world on his shoulders, the weight of it all crushing his back until his muscles tear and bones ache. Donghae takes another sip from his cup, a bitter warmth filling his throat. It’s a familiar feeling, throat closing up in the same way when he can’t control his emotions and tears well in his eyes. He doesn’t quite know why he feels like crying right now, sitting in a room full of festivity, but he does.

When Hyukjae returns to his side, Donghae gazes at the other with glossed eyes, alcohol surging through his veins. He’s a light drinker, having surpassed his limits for coherent thoughts. _Don’t fixate, _he wants to tell himself. But he can’t seem to draw his eyes away from the man in front of him. Hyukjae seems to be overtaken by it too, letting down the burden upon his shoulders with another chug of beer. It makes Donghae laugh for reasons he’s too intoxicated to comprehend, silently enjoying the smile that adorns Hyukjae’s features. He pushes himself closer, resting his forehead onto the other’s shoulder. The faint smell of laundry detergent fills his senses, a fresh change from the noise and fumes surrounding the restaurant.

“Hyukjae,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” the brunette male responds, slightly turning his neck to rest their heads together. Donghae lets out a muffled laugh, pressing his weight onto the other. “You’re growing up.”

“We can’t be kids forever,” Hyukjae sighs. There’s a tinge of sorrow in the other’s words and Donghae only pulls them closer together.

  
It’s not that he doesn’t understand nor that he doesn’t _want_ to understand. He’s had his fair share of growing up with the numerous events that settled into their lives akin to meteors striking the earth. But that doesn’t stop the dull ache in his chest when he has to let go of yet another part of _them_ to the grasps of reality. All that remains are blurred figures buried within their memories. He wonders how long it will be before they lose this as well. How long would it be before Hyukjae decides to stop playing along to his antics. Where he can no longer delay the ending of Romeo and Juliet ultimately falling to their deaths, the book comes to a close. The polaroid he’s placed between the pages stays pressed again the black and white lines. They’re hidden from the world’s prying eyes, lost in the dark.

Donghae speaks again, muffled voice sending low vibrations across Hyukjae’s skin, “You never seem to want me to grow up.” There’s a hint of aggravation in his voice, syllables meshing together as he speaks into the fabric of Hyukjae’s shirt.

“Is that bad though?” Hyukjae asks softly, tapping idly on his glass of beer, “To have someone to rely on? Isn’t that what a team is for?”

“But who do you rely on?” He inquires, “You’re always like this, closing yourself from others.” It feels like a continuation of a fight from too many years ago, a hint of déjà vu seeping through the air. He gestures in the air for emphasis, “You’re so…_distant_ no matter how friendly you act with others. I can’t ever seem to reach you no matter how many steps I take towards you.”

It’s not the right conversation for this time and place and Donghae vaguely knows he’ll regret the confrontation the next day when he’s sober enough to recall it. But it’s years and years of vexations, questions that he repeatedly asks within his heart and has no answer to. “I’m not a kid anymore, Hyukjae, you don’t have to shield me from anything.”

There’s no answer for a while, Hyukjae settling his drink upon the table and observing the glass in silence. There’s a dull ache throbbing in Donghae’s head---mimicking that of his heartbeat—that only aggravates him more. “You’re like this again,” he incites with sound bitterness, “You’re always like this.”

Hyukjae lowers his gaze, reaching out to pour himself another glass of alcohol. The noise around them warps into a cacophonic buzz, ringing lowly against his eardrums. He raises the glass to his lips, the venom melds into his bloodstream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to write melancholic haeeun really be the struggle of the century as they live out their honeymoon lives every single day but i'm that fool i guess


	3. vexations

People seemingly gravitated towards Donghae. Hyukjae didn’t quite understand how non-tangential ways of the world worked nor how the moon pulled on the tides. But there was something— _ something _ \--about Donghae that was different. Something about him that made people surrender bits and pieces of their resolve, letting the younger male have his way.

He was always intruding--unrelentingly trespassing unsaid boundaries in both physical and emotional ways as if he never truly understood the norms of the world. Or maybe it was simply that he disregarded such norms entirely. Hyukjae can’t quite discern between the two possibilities with the way that Donghae shifts between being oblivious and only pretending to be so.

Hyukjae thinks back to the days of years past. Donghae always seemed to leave him at a loss. Too much, too soon—that seemed to sum up their initial dynamics. He didn’t quite understand how one could open their heart to others in such fervour, showcasing their vulnerabilities in a place meant for survival and competition. A child-like naivety that Donghae always held onto, something too pure (too raw) for Hyukjae to take on in full force.

He was always one to enclose within himself, keeping his feelings hidden underneath. A habit of watching those around him come and go.  _ Don’t get too attached _ , he reminds himself.  _ Don’t show them your wounds _ , he recites. Some things, he learns from lessons of youth, were meant for him to keep to himself. Yet, as the days pass by, Donghae tears down such barricades one by one in ways that Hyukjae can’t bring himself to resent him for.  _ He should _ , he rationalizes,  _ but could he? _

He wonders if he’s overly cautious, treading on the lines of cowardice, in all matters of life. Though it’s hard to ignore the voice gnawing at the back of his mind. He knows all too well the consequences and repercussions of everything, calculating risks before he comes to any decision. It wouldn’t be worth it, he knows, to throw everything they’ve built up to on the line. Not with the way that life has only been turmoil after turmoil. They’ve overcome too much to finally come to an equilibrium point, one too delicate and fragile for him to disturb.

He had reckoned that Donghae reciprocated such thoughts, in how the other’s demeanor seemingly calmed throughout the years. His words and actions were less direct, more subdued in comparison to the flaming days of youth. And with time, Hyukjae whims, such fleeting emotions would be buried into memories. One can’t wish for too much, he knows, every gain in the world was accompanied by a loss. 

Sometimes Hyukjae thinks they know each other too well, leaving most of their thoughts unsaid for them to realize. Other times he thinks they don’t know each other at all, unable to grasp just what it was swimming through the other’s mind. They’re always racing back and forth between such states. He never really knows where they will end up.

He stays up awake despite the suppressants running through his bloodstream, feeling nothing but sedated. The more he thinks, the more conscious he becomes.  _ Why, _ he wants to know, why are they doing this now of all times? Breaking apart the hazardous compromise that they’ve been building for all these years. 

_ Love. _

He fathoms the thought. Was it love? Was it  _ only  _ love. Everything complicated by the layers and layers of complexity between them. Time taking its course in weaving a blend of love, friendship and camaraderie. The nuances of their dynamics slowly morphing into transparent shackles upon his wrists.

Hyukjae tries not to fixate on the thought, trepidation lurking in the dark room. He doesn’t know what’s to come, Donghae’s actions were always beyond that of his predictions. Would the tension between them only escalate or would they pretend that it never existed at all? Perhaps it was only the alcohol in their system, a sudden loss of logic that they would come to regret and forget.

_ Love? _

**Author's Note:**

> love being so starved for certain dynamics in both c-fandom and i-fandom that i have to come out of my grave and start writing again :'^)


End file.
